It's Urgent
by ConnorCat
Summary: Fluffy, oneshot drabble involving thunderstorms and cuddles. Rated T to be safe.


**Author's Note: **_Ohey, dere. This is just fluffy, oneshot drabble. I rated it T just in case. But it's mostly K+. Had the idea and decided to write it. I hope you all enjoy! But I mean, it's entirely up to you… Do what you like… xD So here it is! "It's Urgent"._

**Disclaimer: **_Nooooooooooope._

* * *

><p>John stared wistfully outside at the rain hammering against his office window. He watched the lightning flash and listened to the thunder rumble. What a horrible bloody day. This sort of weather was his idea of "eating hot soup in front of the telly weather", not weather to sit in his office at Bart's. John hoped that there might be something to happen which would result in him having to go home; anything at all. Another case that merely involved watching Sherlock think would even be better than being stuck at work on such a miserable day.<p>

It had been an awfully slow shift for John. Mostly he had treated young children screaming at the top of their lungs due to tonsillitis and toddlers with innocent common colds. His only close to interesting patient had been an old man who seemed to be having an asthma attack in the waiting room, but it turned out he had fallen asleep and had a very strange breathing pattern.

Abruptly, John felt the familiar vibration of his phone on his leg and discovered he had a new message from his flatmate. He frowned; Sherlock never texted John whilst he was at work unless it was to request a new jar of jam when he was heading home. Very curious, he opened the message.

_Please come home. It's urgent. _

_S_

Relief spread through John's body; finally an excuse to go home! With a grin, he packed up his carry bag and made to leave. A huge clap of thunder echoed through the hospital and a bright flash could be seen outside of the window to John's office. As he left the room, he heard the rain start to fall even more heavily than before and inwardly cursed for not bringing an umbrella.

He reached the admin desk and smiled at Sarah. "Sherlock says it's urgent that I go home. Do you still need me?"

"That's okay," Sarah giggled. "It's going pretty slow, so head home if you need to."

John briefly thanked her and headed down the white hallways to the exit of St Bartholomew's Hospital. As he opened the door, he was hit with a huge, wet gust of wind. It was really coming down now and the sky was virtually black at three in the afternoon. John covered his head with his carry bag and started to sprint as fast as he could without slipping in the direction of 221B. During the journey, his phone vibrated at least three times and started to get John worried as to what could possibly be so urgent for Sherlock to need him right now. He hoped to God that he wasn't sick… Sherlock sick was torture.

He burst through the front door and raced up stairs, starting to feel a little bit anxious. When John discovered that Sherlock wasn't in the lounge room, he instantly went to the detective's bedroom. There didn't seem to be any sign of him in their either, so with a slightly fast heart rate, John decided to check his own room. As he pushed the door open, a low rumble of thunder vibrated through the flat and John thought he heard a small whimper.

"Sherlock, where are you?" John called.

A mop of curls hesitantly popped out from under John's quilt. "I'm under here,"

John hadn't noticed the lump shape on his bed and frowned. "Er, what are you doing in there?"

"I can't tell you… Please come and… Cuddle me,"

Wordlessly, John kicked his shoes off and climbed into bed with Sherlock, feeling rather hesitant. Almost immediately a pair of scrawny arms clung onto him in a death grip. John was beginning to think there was something very strange about this… And then Sherlock started to shake. His body was actually quivering in what could only be fear. A white flash filled the room and there was yet another clap of thunder. Sherlock gripped tighter onto John and made a small whimpering sound like a dog.

John clicked. "Oh my God… You're afraid of storms, aren't you?"

Sherlock didn't reply, just curled his arms tighter – if that were possible – and continued to tremble as the storm seemed to be getting worse. John had to try very hard at that moment not to laugh at his flatmate. The idea of being scared by thunder and lightning seemed a little silly to him. It was just a loud noise and a bright light. He giggled a little and then felt Sherlock punch him in the thigh.

"It's not funny, John," he grumbled. "I've been afraid of thunderstorms since I was little. It's not unheard of…"

"I know, but really? You're nearly thirty! Don't you think it's time you got over this phobia?"

Again, Sherlock ignored him and started to move away, clearly annoyed at John for teasing him. But he soon returned, shaking and almost sobbing as the loudest rumble of thunder John had ever heard actually shook the house. It was so loud that it hurt John's ears and for a brief moment, he began to understand how Sherlock could be feeling a little scared right now. As a matter of fact, he couldn't deny that his heart rate had just increased.

"Your heart is beating incredibly fast, John Watson," Sherlock said bitterly. "Could you possibly be _afraid_?"

"Okay, I'm sorry!" John sighed, defeated. "Yes, the thunder is loud and scary, I won't deny it. But there is actually nothing to be afraid of. It's just a sound that happens to be incredibly loud and menacing."

"It still scares me,"

"Does big, strong John Watson have to protect you?" John smirked.

"Yes, he does,"

With a grin, John pulled Sherlock close to his chest and placed a nervous kiss into his fluffy curls. He didn't mind looking after Sherlock; they were best friends. Though he did admit he felt a little strange doing this with a man…

The detective's tremors were starting to subside and he had stopped whimpering completely. But then the thunder clapped yet again and now the wind was howling quite spookily. Sherlock let out a puppy-like whine and practically ripped a chunk out of John's hair. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the sharp pain on his scalp and decided he would try a different approach.

"Sherlock, look at me,"

The detective lifted his head and John cupped his face, very slowly and nervously bringing their lips together. He felt Sherlock tense beneath him at first but then relax into the kiss. John was admittedly having a hard time himself getting used to the idea of kissing a man, but he wouldn't deny it was enjoyable. His flat mate had very soft lips, actually.

John tried to move his lips, but Sherlock didn't respond, so he figured the detective didn't know what he was doing. Pulling away, John watched his flat mate slowly open his eyes and then exhale. He looked like a stunned rabbit, but then broke into a proper smile. He had stopped shaking now and the storm was quietening down. John only remembered how to breathe when Sherlock rested his head back onto his chest, curling his hand around his coat fondly.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Still scared?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I've never been scared of storms, John."

John's eyes widened. "W-what? You mean you… Oh you bloody bastard…"

His flatmate chuckled. "You enjoyed it,"

"Absolute shitting bastard…"


End file.
